


forgotten by the world

by ssstrychnine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssstrychnine/pseuds/ssstrychnine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>maggie throws a party, michonne wears a dress, abraham attempts home brew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forgotten by the world

**Author's Note:**

> set post s06e13 when they win and no one dies and that's it that's the end forever.

It’s Maggie’s idea. They’re still recovering after Negan and everyone is more on edge than usual, like they’re afraid their luck won’t stick, and Maggie knows best how to make it seem like the world hasn’t ended. Michonne thinks that it’s impossible not to feel like you’re supposed to be dead when most of the world is a graveyard but Maggie is smiling and she has her hand on her belly and it’s just a party, just dancing and music and the people they love, and that’s what they’re supposed to be doing in Alexandria, isn’t it?

Rick is harder to convince. Michonne thinks that most of the reservations he has are put on, not deliberate but a record skipping, stuck on anger and terror even when there’s nothing to be afraid of. She gentles him some, her hands on his shoulders, his arms, his hands in hers.

“It’s just a party,” she tells him, pulling him to her. “We’ve done it before. Not all good things are dangerous.” 

“You wearing a dress?” he asks, looking at her sideways, and she shoves him away of course and he laughs of course and she puts her hands on her hips, raises her chin.

“I was thinking about it,” she says. “Is that what it’s gonna take to convince you?” 

“It’ll help,” he says, so serious she has to laugh too.

They use the church, dragging all the pews into Gabriel’s office out back. Tara and Denise make decorations out of whatever they can find. Eugene, they discover, can make beautiful flowers out of almost anything and they set him to work with old cereal boxes and curtains. Daryl finds a box of christmas decorations in one of the attics and gives it to Denise before leaning against a wall to watch, chewing on his fingers. Rosita tries to bake and it ends in flames but Carol employs her as her sous chef all the same. Every one of them finds something to help with and Maggie’s eyes are bright and her smile brighter by the time the sun goes down. 

Michonne wears a dress Maggie gives her, stolen from one of the empty houses no doubt and almost her size. It's not glamorous but it’s a nice dark green and the fabric falls across her shoulders and over her hips like water and she hasn’t worn anything like it in years. She wonders at the person who had owned such a dress. Had she worn it often? Did she slip out of it in the evenings and leave it crumpled up on the floor until morning? Had she been kissed in it? Michonne adjusts the neckline, twists the soft fabric between thumb and forefinger and then lets it go. It falls back into place like she’d never touched it. 

The church looks warm and gold in the twilight and Michonne walks across with Judith who is wearing sunflowers, a dress Carol had made from a duvet cover. Rick is there with Carl already, fussing over the awful looking home brew Abraham had revealed earlier in the day. She sidles up to them, touches Rick’s shoulder, and he looks at her and he doesn’t say anything but his smile gets deep and warm and fond and he pulls her a little closer. His hand rests at her waist, comfortable against the silk and curve of her body. 

They eat together first and Rick makes a terrible toast and Maggie makes a good one and Daryl’s fairy lights line the windowsills, a necessary waste of electricity. Most of the music comes from the Monroe house and it’s country standards first and then terrible soft rock and then far too much Andrews Sisters for Michonne’s taste. She can dance to some of it though and she does, with Judith in her arms or Rick under her hands. Carl and Enid shuffle awkwardly with their hands at waist and shoulders. Eugene does the robot and no one is surprised.

When they decide they’ve got enough out of the CD player they sing. Abraham’s beer has done its job and it’s terrible renditions of whatever-they-all-know until after midnight. They’re too loud, probably, but Denise has her eyes shut and is holding Tara’s hand so tightly and singing at the top of her lungs and Glenn and Maggie are whispering in a corner and Sasha is smiling and mouthing along with the words and even Daryl is tapping his foot. He stands up eventually and spins Carol in a slow circle and she laughs like Michonne hasn’t seen in a long time. It wouldn’t be fair to stop it all. It’s just one night. 

Eventually everyone drifts back to their places to sleep. Rick carries the sleeping Judith in his arms and Michonne walks a little ahead with Carl, teasing him about Enid.

“Is she your _girlfriend_?” She asks and he groans like every word she says pains him. 

“Is dad your _boyfriend_?” He asks when he’s recovered and she’s laughing when they reach home. 

In their bedroom, Rick unzips her dress. He kisses the bare skin that’s left behind as it falls to the floor. Her shoulders, her collarbones. He kisses her soft and achingly slow until she can’t bear it and she pushes him onto the bed and tugs his tie loose and he pulls her down with him. 

In the morning they’re back to the everyday. Maggie is in her garden, guiding peas up a trellis. Glenn is on the walls, looking for his wife more often than he’s looking to the road. Rosita and Sasha are patrolling together, checking weak points, talking in quiet, fierce tones. Daryl and Carol are loading up the van, they’re to meet Jesus at the halfway point and check out a new point on their map. Abraham is lying on a porch with an arm flung across his eyes to protect them from the sun. He’s not talking to anyone but groaning like there’s something eating him from the inside out. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t drink much of that so-called beer,” says Michonne as they walk passed. 

“He’s lucky he woke up at all,” says Rick and he raises his arm. “Morning Abraham!” He calls and Abraham moans in response. 

It’s a small thing, a party in a church, slippery dresses and clumsy dancing, fairy lights. It’s a small thing but important. At their next meeting Maggie suggests they do it once a month and Rick rolls his eyes but raises his hand with everyone else when it comes to vote. It’s just a party. Just one night in thirty. Michonne thinks perhaps she’ll have Carol make her a dress from one of the nicer curtains, or learn to do it herself, or just wear green satin every time. It won’t matter, she’ll dance with Rick to Patsy Cline in jeans and a t-shirt. She hangs the dress in the closet in their room, she smoothes out the wrinkles, hangs it a little straighter. She hopes it will be there for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! this is fluff and nonsense but it has to be, it always is for these kids. im at @oneangryshot on tumblr if you wanna say hello.


End file.
